


To All the Jerks I've Loved Before

by iRockYourSocks



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, To All The Boys I've Loved Before AU, all the miscommunication, these poor kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-07-14 18:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16045841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iRockYourSocks/pseuds/iRockYourSocks
Summary: Katara tilts her head to the side, curious. “Zuko, are you jealous of Mai’s new boyfriend?”If it were possible for the boy to frown anymore, it would be an inhuman reaction. Zuko is the king of frowns and emo angst. “I’m not jealous of Mai’s new boyfriend,” he says. “I just think his hair is stupid and everything that comes out of his mouth is ridiculous.”ORThe To All the Boys I've Loved Before AU that you never thought you wanted





	1. prologue

When Katara was eight years old, her mother was killed in a home invasion gone wrong.  She remembers the rough feel of the blanket the police officers gave her, Sokka’s hand a heavy weight on hers. They probably made quite the sight, two children experiencing the worst day of their young lives, but neither of them were crying, just _empty_.

The funeral was equally as dreary, even though it was a beautiful day, as if her mother was smiling down at them and wanted to let them know that it would be okay. They were a strong family, came from strong stock, both physically and emotionally.

Eight-year-old Katara let herself cry once. She had to stay strong for her family.

When Katara was ten years old, her father moved them across town to a nicer neighborhood. One of the life changes that came with that move was therapy. Her father was concerned that she wasn’t expressing herself in a healthy manner (his nice way of saying she was moving through the fifth grade like an emotionless tiger seal), and she was willing to go to therapy if it eased his worry.

She didn’t want to lose both of her parents.

Her first therapy session was a disaster, ending with her screaming at her therapist about how no one would never understand what she went through, what that criminal put her through, put her family through. Her childhood was stolen when her mother left. Who would do laundry, help cook, make sure Sokka isn’t eating them through house and home? It was _Katara_ who did that, helped keep them all afloat. Her father ended up cutting this session short.

Her second therapy session didn’t go much better, but her therapist had a new method to get her to talk without exploding with feelings: write letters. If she were to write her feelings down, she could get all of her raw emotions out on paper, and she can revisit them if she needed to. Her own words could be her salvation.

Katara stopped going to therapy shortly after that second meeting, but she never forgot about the letters.


	2. act i

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY! So, I decide to split this monstrosity up. This is the first part, chapter 3 will be a brief interlude, and part ii will be chapter 4. Thanks for all your patience :)

“Smile!”

Katara lips have barely moved before Sokka wraps his arm around the back of her neck and yanks her to him. The flash of their father’s old Kodak camera goes off, and Katara is certain that the final photo is a blurry mess of blue and plaid, her face in a state of alarm and Sokka’s jovial and lively.

Laughing, Hakoda steps in-between his children before his daughter murders his son. He pulls them both into a hug. “First day of school, kids, junior and senior year. Excited?” her father asks, and Sokka rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, dad, another year, another headache,” Sokka replies, shrugging his shoulders. Katara knows he’s a little nervous, with this being his last year before he heads to university. “I just want to get this year over with.” A red SUV pulls onto the curb and honks twice in quick succession. “Alright, that’s my ride. I’ll catch you later.” He quickly hugs Katara and Hakoda and sprints toward the waiting vehicle, mouth already obnoxiously moving a mile a minute.

As the car pulls away, Katara sighs, resting her head on Hakoda’s shoulder. “I’m really going to miss that bonehead this year. High school is already way too quiet without him.” Hakoda just squeezes her shoulder in response.

“It’s for his future, Katara. I couldn’t _not_ let him go to The Academy on a full ride scholarship. He would’ve grown to resent us both in the long run.

“So heavy on the first day of school,” she mutters, and Hakoda laughs.

“All right, kiddo. You’re going to miss your bus.”

Katara sighs, shaking her head, and walks towards the street corner. “Love you, Dad! I’ll see you for dinner!”

Hakoda waves in response, hand over his eyes to block the sun.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Suki catches her as soon as she steps off the bus. “Ready for the new year?”

Katara snorts and rolls her eyes. “More like are _you_ ready? You’re the one graduating this year.” They walk toward the familiar school entrance. It’s going to be weird next year without Suki, probably weirder than the last year without Sokka. Katara knows better by now; everything and everyone eventually leaves.

Suki shakes her short hair. “Don’t remind me. I still need to apply for a few more universities.” She opens the door. “I’m sure it’ll work out.”

Katara hums in response. The hallways are already full and bustling, from confident seniors who know the ropes to incoming freshman who are trying to figure out the layout of the school.

Suki departs for her TA block in the physical education wing, and Katara heads towards the science building. She’s packed her schedule with classes suited for her future college major.

She’s taking her first advanced placement classes, and she’s ready for the challenge. She might not be as smart as Sokka, but she is still an honor student with top grades.

It was a _long_ , eventful summer, and Katara was ready for the mundane day to day of high school life.

This year is going to be _her_ year.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Katara is closing her locker when Jet walks up to her. “Hey, can we talk?” he asks, and she looks down at his hand and sees the letter she wrote him almost four years ago in his hand.

“Nope,” she responds, slamming her locker shut and hauls down the busy hallway.

He doesn’t follow her.

She quickly texts Suki, her heart pounding in her throat.

**Me**

Jet is trying to talk to me

**THE Fangirl**

Ew

Katara rolls her eyes. Her phone vibrates again.

**THE Fangirl**

I didn’t know u were talking…?

            Ur lucky I have a TA period

**Me**

            I’m hiding in the bathroom! Help me!

**THE Fangirl**

LMAO GIRL. Calm down. Avoid him duh

            Get ur shit together. I’ll see u later

Katara slips her phone into her back pocket and presses the heels of her hand into her eyes. Her cheeks puff up with air. It takes every drop of strength in her body not to scream, so she wills herself to calm down.

She thinks happy thoughts, like Bubble tea and the food network. Her necklace is a comforting weight at the base of her neck.

Katara doesn’t leave the bathroom until the bell rings.

So much for this year going her way.

She manages to avoid Jet for the rest of the school day. She caught him trying to get her attention a few times during lunch, but she stayed in seemingly ignorant bliss.

Stepping off the bus, Katara nearly sprints to the front door. She pulls her key of her pocket and twists it into the lock. She quickly pockets the key. All she wants to do is lay down, put on a face mask, and maybe watch a baking show.

A hand taps her on the shoulder. “Hey, Katara? I just need to let you know, that, um, this, um, _this_ , it isn’t going to happen.” Zuko waves the letter in his hand, scowling. “I know you’re Sokka’s sister, and Sokka is my buddy and all, and I guess I’m flattered?” He coughs and rubs the back of his neck, looking down. “Mai just broke up with me, I’m really, um, I didn’t expect this? From you?”

Katara slowly turns around in horror. Her entire face flames red, and in that very moment everything was clear.

The letter, _her letter_ , somehow found its way to Zuko’s awkward hands. Jet, parking down the driveway, is getting out of his secondhand car with a _very_ familiar envelope in his hand. The time is 5:18 PM, and Katara has declared herself emotionally deceased.

He effectively has her cornered without even realizing it.

Zuko is still rambling at her.

Katara does the only thing that makes sense in a moment like this.

She grabs the flustered teen by his ears and yanks his still open mouth towards hers. Zuko is slack jawed against her, and she is just _horrified_. She quickly pulls away and glances out towards the driveway. Jet was already back in his car.

She slowly backs away from Zuko and reaches out for the doorknob. “I’m really, really sorry about this, forget this ever happened and never _ever_ tell Sokka! I’m so sorry,” she said in one breath, slightly hysterical, and before Zuko can respond to that she has already slipped into the house and closed the door in his face.

He knocks on the door, once, twice, and Katara waits the sound of his SUV being turned on. The sound of crunching gravel and a quick glance out the window confirms that he did, in fact, leave. She slides to the floor, mortified. How did both Jet and Zuko get their letters? Did any of the others find their letters in their mailboxes?

“Oh no,” she whispers, sprinting to her room. She immediately starts to look for the small plastic container that held all her secrets, to no avail. Katara screams at nothing, which prompts her dad to pop his head into her room gingerly.

He clears his throat. “Anything wrong, seal pup?”

“Have you seen my old music box? It should’ve been somewhere in here…”

Hakoda tilts his head in thought. “You know what, did you put it in the donation box? Sokka said that you put a box together the other day when we were cleaning out his pigsty of a room. Might as well get both of your unwanted belongings out of the way, you know?” He strokes his chin. “What happened? Did you need it for something?”

Katara fumes and screams again, much to the anguish of her father.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Zuko**

?? Wtf??

Katara glares at the message like it personally offended her and inhales sharply. “What kind of a jerk finds someone’s letters in a donation box and sends them?” she screams, collapsing onto her bed dramatically and tossing her phone. Suki shrugs, pulling off her boots and sitting cross legged on the other side of the bed. “

Suki is probably the part thing to come out of her crush on Jet in the seventh grade, honestly.

The second letter that Katara wound up writing in her weepy, bleeding heart preadolescence was when she was twelve. Jet was in Sokka’s grade at school, but she started bumping into him during after school activities. He was charming, in that arrogant, tween jerk sort of way. Sokka didn’t care much for him, but Katara almost _idolized_ him. Jet was just _the coolest_ in school. The fact that he took any interest in Katara, platonic or not, made her face heat.

It was at her first boy-girl party during winter break that _The Incident_ happened. Jin was hosting the party at her house, and Katara’s dad thought it was a great idea to go and hang out with kids her age instead of sitting at home all night reading. The only stipulation was that Sokka had to attend as well.

Sokka didn’t want to go.

He complained in her ear the entire party, and Katara had never wanted to strangle the bonehead more. When one of the older eighth grade girls suggested a game of spin the bottle, Katara saw her brother visibly blush. Interesting.

The girl, Suki, produced an empty Coke glass and yelled (demanded) for everyone to sit in a circle. Ground rules were made so that no one had to kiss anyone they were uncomfortable with and so that siblings (i.e. Katara and Sokka) would get an automatic re-spin if they landed on each other.

For the most part, everyone was having fun, in the awkward preteen sense. When Suki did her spin and it landed on Sokka, she crawled over to him, fisted a hand in his collar, and yanked his lips to hers. Sokka had the dopiest look on his face, and he’s been a goner for her ever since.

Katara spun the bottle next, and it landed on Jet. Her palms started to sweat. Sokka made a choked, disgusted sound. She swats at his misguided attempts to draw her away from him, but Suki ended up yanking him back for her.

Katara leaned in, and Jet met her halfway. Their lips touched for barely a second, but it set her face on fire.

Sokka glared at Jet; Jet smirked in response.

They would still talk after school sometimes, when the hallways were empty, and they were waiting for rides. She heard rumors of Jet getting into gang activity or computer hacking or _something_ illegal. He had a rough childhood, being one of the few kids she knows in foster care. He was never mean to her or pressured her to do anything she didn’t want to do.

Suki was always the constant, though. Before Katara left the party that night, her and Suki exchanged phone numbers and Snapchat usernames.

Even though she _officially_ started dating Sokka a year after the party, it was obvious that they’ve been close since that party as well.

She is glad her friend found happiness from that day, even though she felt a minor heartache when she and Jet initially fell out of touch.

Honestly, Katara hasn’t really paid much attention to Jet since he went to high school and found a new crowd to hang out with. He outgrew her, and she’s too _good_ for him.

“I’m _definitely_ not into Jet,” she mumbles. “At least the last one makes sense, _that_ was recently enough.”

“Maybe they thought they were doing you a favor,” Suki suggests, chuckling at Katara’s load groan. “You know if you talked to people in person about how you feel, this wouldn’t have even happened.”

“I really don’t want to talk about this,” Katara grumbles, clutching a pillow to her chest. I wrote those years ago, I don’t have those feelings anymore.”

Suki hums. “Who all got letters?”

Katara lifts a hand and sticks up her pinky finger. “First was Aang from sleepaway camp. I think I was maybe ten or eleven, I don’t know. Romance was so new, we were kids. I haven’t even though of Aang in years.” She sighs. It wasn’t _really_ true. Katara had a habit of going back and rereading her letters whenever she felt lonely.

Her ring finger goes up. “Second was Jet. Hey, hey! Don’t judge me,” she laughs, flinging the pillow at Suki’s totally judgmental face. To be fair, Jet isn’t really love letter material. “I was twelve! He was cool. Besides, it was kind of your fault, Miss Spin the Bottle.”

Suki shrugs, laughing. “It was clearly a ploy for me to kiss your brother. Sorry you got caught in the crosshairs.” She tucks the pillow behind her head. “So, what happened with that? Jet’s still around.”

Katara clucks her tongue. “He started doing a bunch of sketchy stuff, Sokka didn’t want me hanging around that. Which, you know, is fair.” Suki nods at her. “I’m pretty sure he’s dating some rich girl from Sokka’s school, anyways.”

Suki dramatically swings her arm out to showcase her room. It was pretty big for her to not have to share it, and it was decorated like a Pinterest dream. “Katara, you’re acting like you’re not well off. Don’t diss the rich kids.”

Another sigh. “Even if I wanted to diss the rich kids, I can’t. Because of my fourth letter.” Katara taps her fingertips together. She knows Suki will guess who the recipient for that one is.

“Do I even need to say his name?”

Katara shakes her head. “No, you were there that summer. You _definitely_ know who it is.”

Suki shakes her hands as if to dispel the bad juju. “Before you get all melancholy on me, who was the third?”

“A fellow volunteer who is missing a parent. It was during freshman year, when I was trying to navigate my savior complex,” Katara laughs. “He was nice to me, and it felt like we had the same pain. I’m ninety-nine percent sure that he was homeschooled, so I never saw him again after Thanksgiving. I have him on Instagram, if that means anything.”

“Well,” Suki starts. “You’ve gotten yourself into a ‘situation.’” She uses air quotes. “Anything I can do to help?”

Katara sighs, “Maybe it’ll all blow over, and they’ll take my avoidance as me _not_ being interested.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Katara’s chewing on a spoonful of cereal, eyes trained on her Netflix queue when her phone _pings_ with a new message. She swallows and lazily taps in her passcode with her index finger. Her eyes scan the text, and she grimaces.

**Zuko**

            Are you ignoring me??

She’s absolutely ignoring him. What does he expect her to do? Katara has seen Zuko try to smooth talk him way out of a situation, and it was as smooth as chunky peanut butter. Smooth talk is out of the question.

She doesn’t know how to confront him. She’s never been in this situation nor has she been taught what to do in a situation like this. There isn’t a rule book on how to deal with kissing her brother’s best friend who used to be her crush to avoid talking to her crush from middle school.

Katara stands up and stretches, reaching for her bowl of cereal. She doesn’t feel very hungry anymore. She places the bowl in the sink and leans against the counter. She figures she can grab a Bubble tea and head to the library and maybe work on some homework or get a new book off her AP Lang reading list.

Her choices are stay home and be haunted by her phone or head to the library and try to be productive.

Zuko wouldn’t be caught dead at the library.

Her decision practically makes itself.

She tugs on a soft, over-sized sweater and grabs her bus pass.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Katara waves at the old librarian, Aunt Wu, as she insists everyone calling her. Aunt Wu is not necessarily kind but not necessarily mean. She lives on a wiser plane of existence than every person Katara knows, but her knowledge and wisdom is few and far between.

It might be a good idea to ask Aunt Wu what she should do in her current predicament, but Katara exhausted that resource until it ran dry ages ago.

She walks passed the reference section and the kiddie area. She spots her favorite table and drops her bag on the tabletop. She plops down and reaches into her bag for this week’s reading.

Katara is three chapters into _As I Lay Dying_ sitting the furthest corner of the public library when she hears the familiar sound of a chair quietly scraping against the carpet. A familiar pastel green envelope slides under her book. Dread filled in her stomach. She slowly puts her book down. “Hey, Haru,” she groans, pulling her loose hairs back into a messy bun as she looks up.

“Hey Katara, long time no see,” he replies, a smile on his lips.

Her eyes widen. Long time no see, indeed.

Of course, Haru pops up when Katara had just mentioned him to Suki the other day. A part of her wants to ask him if he had the powers of Beetlejuice, but that isn’t what they need to talk about at this very moment.

Of course, he wants to confront her about the letter. In Katara’s mind, it was completely logical. She was fourteen years old, and it was freshman year in high school. Katara wanted to start puffing up her resume early while still giving back to the community. If it was one thing that was important to Katara, it was her family, her community, and having a comforting sense of knowing that your neighbors love you.

With Thanksgiving around the corner, she decided her spare time would be best spent volunteering at homeless shelters. It was there on a grey, rainy day that she ran into Haru. He didn’t go to her school, but his gentle spirit and the slight melancholy that radiated from him drew Katara in like a moth to the flame. His family had roots to the poorer parts of town, and the volunteer work They spoke of loss, with Haru’s father being imprisoned for most of his childhood for a crime he swears his father didn’t commit.

It was a week of soft looks, quiet words, and chocolate bars. Katara’s heart, the dark bits that begged to be fixed, had pain still lingering even though her mother had been gone six years by then. Some wounds never heal, she supposes, but talking to Haru was almost therapeutic. His letter was more of a thank you note than an all-out love confession, but a piece of her heart bled for him. A kindred spirit, of sorts.

Although she signed it _Love, Katara_ , she can honestly say that she isn’t actively in love with Haru.

She looks him in the eye. “I don’t have those feelings for you anymore, honest,” Katara starts, “I have this weird habit of writing letters, and I _swear_ you were never meant to see that. I wrote it like two years ago.”

“Okay,” he says simply.

“Okay?” she repeats, “What does that mean?”

Haru just shrugs, a small smile gracing his features. “Nothing. I haven’t seen you since the soup kitchen is all. How are you?”

Katara gapes, only a little. How can he be so cool about this? She lives with Sokka, and spirits know she’s had to deal with an abundance of strange situations.

Like the fishing incident of 2015 that she is strictly prohibited from mentioning unless Sokka brings it up first. Stupid bonehead.

Even with all the weird things her brother does, she doesn’t think she’d be as chill and relaxed about it as Haru is if their roles were flipped.

“I’m good,” she coughs, “Never better. A little overwhelmed but still chugging along.” Katara looks up, an embarrassed giggle escaping her, but Haru’s gentle smile and calm demeanor let her know that he doesn’t mind.

He leans back in his seat. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Katara shakes her head and laughs. “Not really, but I should.” Haru nods at her. “Just—these letters I wrote. They meant something to me then, at that moment.” She pauses, chewing on her bottom lip. “It’s like a picture, but it’s of my emotions instead of like a visual moment.”

“So, you wanted to capture how you felt,” Haru murmurs, tugging his chin hair between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m sorry these letters got out.”

Katara shrugs, “Me too. I’m dealing with it.”

Haru chuckles, “I always liked that about you, you were always the brave one.”

“What do you mean?” she tilts her head in confusion. Headstrong and a bit pushy, yes, but Katara doesn’t recall showing bravery in her short acquaintanceship

“You let things roll off you like water. I don’t know how many of these letters got sent out exactly, but I’m glad I got mine. It reminded me of a bright time when my family was in a dark place.”

Katara blushes and drops her eyes to the grooves in the wood. “Well, I’m glad I can help.” Haru hums at her and stretches his arms over his head until it pops.

“How did you even find me here?” She sets the book down, placing a pen down to mark her page before closing it.

“Instagram,” he laughs, resting his chin on his propped hand. “You should really turn off your geo-tag. It’s going to get you abducted one of these days.”

“Fair enough,” she agrees, and they fall into easy conversation. Katara can totally remember why fourteen-year old Katara was so enamored, but sixteen-year old Katara wasn’t really into his weird mustache and goatee combination.

Haru’s phone lights up with a notification. “Oh, that’s my girlfriend,” he says, sheepish. “We’re meeting at my house for dinner.” He stands up and pushes his chair in. “It really was nice seeing you today, if I’m being honest. Really weird, because, you know,” he gestures lamely at the letter, “but good to see you. Don’t be stranger.”

As he turns to leave, she calls out, “You still owe me a KitKat bar.”

Haru just smiles and shakes his head at their little inside joke.

If only her inevitable conversations with Jet and Zuko would be so easy.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The next day, Katara has just gotten home from school when her phone vibrates.

**Zuko**

Can we talk?

            Sokka’s with Suki

She hesitates but clicks on the messages. She knows that he knows that she’s read it already, but her fingers are unable to formulate a response.

**Zuko**

            The very least you can do is talk to me

            You did attack me after all

Katara groans and flops back onto her bed. She supposes she _should_ speak to him, after all it’s only fair. She’s managed to void him for two days now. After all, she did go and attack his mouth with hers seemingly out of the blue. If he did that to her, she would definitely want some answers.

She quickly taps a reply, because there wouldn’t be a point to delay what was bound to happen. If anyone asks, Katara most certainly did _not_ sit near the door in nervous anticipation.

She hears the gravel crunching under his fancy rich kid SUV as it pulls into the driveway. She subconsciously straightens her clothes and stands up, exhaling.

Zuko knocks four times, and Katara counts to nineteen before opening the door. “Hey,” she greets, opening the door wider for him to come inside. He just nods at her and heads towards the kitchen.

He’s cut his hair short again, like it was when she first met him. He looks more confident since then, no longer hiding his scar from the world, and himself. Katara isn’t going to say that he looks _good_ or anything, but it’s not a bad look for him.

She gestures toward him. “You wanted to talk?”

He tugs off his backpack and pulls out an unassuming black binder. He turns to the counter to open it and pulls out the letter. “This was in my mailbox the other day,” he starts. “I thought it was Azula pranking me, but it was way too specific, even for her.” His cheeks tinge a pretty pink. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

Katara waves her hands in his direction. “I’m _so_ sorry! I didn’t even think, I just _did it_ —"

Zuko scowls and scoffs. “And then the _kiss_ ,” he trails off, trying to sound calm and resting his shoulders on the island. “That was weird.”

Katara stands in the doorway and nods, chewing on her bottom lip. “It was very weird.”

He stares at her, brows furrowed. “Why’d you do it?” he asks, incredulous. He looks like he cannot fathom why his self-imposed best friend’s sister smooched him out of the blue, and he deserves a fair, if not slightly ad-libbed, answer.

Katara had two options. Either A, tell him about the letters, or B, make something up. She isn’t blessed with Sokka’s gift of the gab, so Plan B is not ideal. Zuko doesn’t really have much of a sense of humor, at least what she could tell from their interactions over the past year.

She has always liked how he didn’t laugh at her, even when she knows she embarrassed herself.

So, she did the only thing that sounded right.

She tells him the truth.

Katara tells him the Cliff-Notes version of how she felt after her mom died, how writing her feelings helped her release the emotions and feeling weighing her down. Her heart would get too heavy and it made it hard for her to breathe sometimes. She needed to be strong for her family, she was the glue to keep them together.

She pours her heart out, not a pen or paper in sight.

“Jet got the letter I wrote when I was like twelve, and I didn’t want him getting any ideas. I figured that if I kissed you it would deter him from talking to me. It worked,” she says, leaning against the wall. “I’m really sorry about that.”

He shrugs. “It’s okay, I guess. I don’t really have girls throwing themselves at me. I don’t know the protocol for handling that.”

Katara smiles, moving to stand next to him. “Sokka told me about Mai. Sorry it didn’t work out.”

Zuko just shrugs again. “She’s already moved on, I should get over it and move on too.”

Katara tilts her head to the side, curious. “Zuko, are you _jealous_ of Mai’s new boyfriend?”

If it were possible for the boy to frown anymore, it would be an inhuman reaction. Zuko is the king of scowls and emo angst. “I’m not _jealous_ of Mai’s new boyfriend,” he says. “I just think his hair is stupid and everything that comes out of his mouth is ridiculously stupid.”

“So, she’s basically dating Sokka, then,” she quips, cool as a cucumber. A joke would _definitely_ ease the tension.

Zuko’s face turns white, and he chokes on nothing.

Katara never said she was a comedian, though.

“Sorry! I meant it as a joke,” she says lamely, arms dropping to her side. He just shrugs his shoulders.

“I hang out with Sokka, I’m used to the ribbing,” he says. “I need to lighten up. In general.”

Katara thinks for a minute. Jet saw her kiss Zuko, and his girlfriend goes to the same school as Zuko. Odds are, people are going to find out. Including Zuko’s ex-girlfriend.

“Hey, Zuko,” she starts. “I have an idea.”

He groans. “Every time you or Sokka says that, I’m the one who suffers.”

“By default, you are already the one suffering,” she laughs. “How often do you even smile in a day?”

He ignores the jab and rolls his eyes. “What’s your idea?”

“Be my fake boyfriend,” she states, confident. “And before you freak out about it, it’s a good idea.”

Zuko’s face is beet red, and he’s looking her dead in the eye. “How can you say that? Mai _just_ broke up with me.”

“ _Fake_ date me. Like it won’t be real to us. Jet probably told his girlfriend about us kissing because that’s a _wtf_ moment if I’ve ever seen one. No other girl will bother you, Mai might get jealous, and Jet will stay off my back.”

“Jet’s a tool. I don’t know what you ever saw in him.” Zuko seems grumpier about this than he does anything else.

“So, is that a yes?” she asks, her voice getting higher towards the end of the sentence.

Zuko is quiet for a moment. “Okay, I’m in.”

Katara claps her hands together and walks around to the other side of the kitchen island, tucking loose curls behind her ear. “Okay we need to write up a contract.”

Zuko snorts. “A contract? For what?”

“Well,” she starts. “We need to have ground rules. I need to protect my virtue from your hormones,” she sniffs dramatically.

Almost immediately Zuko starts to cough on nothing. Katara couldn’t help but laugh. He looks ridiculous, red faced and clutching his chest with a fierce glare aimed at her.  

“I’m only teasing,” she laughs, smiling. “Learn how to take a joke, Zuko.” He sits at the island with a huff. “But ground rules. I’ve never fake dated anyone, so I don’t know the protocols or whatever.” She tugs off her backpack and pulls out a notebook and her favorite sparkly blue gel pen. “Okay, Rule One. No mouth on mouth kissing.”

“Yeah, no problem. I didn’t want to kiss you anyway.” Zuko eyes avoid hers, choosing to check the time on his phone.

Katara glares at him, which she knows is ridiculous because they are most certainly _not_ into each other, but Zuko has a way of ruffling her feathers. “What’s wrong with kissing me?”

He blinks at her, eyes widening. She can almost see him thinking about his answer, because there are only two plausible responses. Either he A, says that he does want to kiss her and is being a jerk about her not wanting to kiss him, or B, say that she’s some horrible she-beast who doesn’t deserve to have her lips on his skin.

She isn’t going to let herself think about if he picks the former, but if he picks the latter she’s going to throw her notebook at him.

“I just got out of a shitty relationship,” he rasps, wetting his lips. “You’re very pretty, Katara, but I don’t think I’m ready to kiss _anyone_ right now.” Now he looks her in the eye. “I’m sorry if I offended you. On accident. But um. Yes, excellent first rule.” His lips twitch into a small smile, basically throwing the olive branch at her dumb, slack jawed face.

She considers him for a moment. The Zuko she first met was never this considerate. Maybe he is growing up. She taps her pen on her chin. “Well, it would probably be pretty weird if we didn’t touch each other. What would be okay with you?”

“I guess hand holding is a uh, staple for dating,” Zuko says, resting his hand on his chin. “Do you, uh, want to _hug_?” His voice cracks a little on the last word, and he quickly clears his throat. “If you’re into that kind of thing.”

“I don’t know,” Katara says, “you don’t really scream _hugger_ to me. Maybe, like, maybe just putting your arm around me? That seems more your style, in my opinion.” Her face is flushed but she doesn’t think he notices.

He looks at her and blinks. “And what do you know about my ‘style?’” he asks, fingers doing mock air quotes. “I feel like you have a lot of opinions about me.” Zuko picks at invisible lint on his jacket.

Katara is at a loss for words. He’s read his letter, he knows how she used to feel about him. How could he possibly say _that_ when she’s seen his dripping abs coming out of the clear water at the beach? She honestly thought she was going to have a stroke last summer.

“Well, as your fake girlfriend I think I’m entitled to an opinion or two.” She’s smiling, and it’s genuine. She doesn’t think she’s ever had this much one on one time with Zuko in a long time, if not ever.

“For the second rule, you should definitely drive me to school. You already pick up Sokka, and it’s on the way. It only makes sense,” she tacks on, already writing it down without his agreement.

“Hey, I didn’t even say yes to that. I can’t believe you’re hijacking my car,” he says, pouting.

“I hate taking the bus.” His face shows zero expression. “Oh, come on, Zuko,” Katara says, thinking of a way to appease him. “I make Sokka’s lunch for school every day. I’ll make yours too. See? Compromise.” She smiles brightly at him and adds that to the contract as well.

Zuko stares at her quietly. “I like spicy food.”

She tilts her head at him. “I can make spicy food for you. It’s not like I’m going to poison you.” She grins at him, remembering Sokka’s last attempt at making his best buddy a birthday dinner.

His eyes roll to the ceiling. “Why would you bring that up? I thought I was going to have to get my stomach pumped. The idiot.” He laughs at the memory, then sobers. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Katara smiles. It isn’t so bad, hanging out with Zuko, but to pull it off they’re actually going to have to spend time with each other.

“Third rule, then,” she continues, “You have to come to my homecoming dance. There are no ifs, ands, or buts about it, mister.”

Zuko levels her with a glare so cold that she almost snorts. “I don’t dance.”

Katara shrugs flippantly. “You don’t have to dance.”

“I don’t _do_ dances,” he hisses between clenched teeth, leaning towards her.

“How are we supposed to sell this if you don’t go to the dance with me?” she asks, peering up at him through her lashes. “That’s what a boyfriend does. Corsages, awkward photos, awkward dancing.”

He looks away from her, a flush spreading across his cheeks. “I’m not asking you to go to mine. I _really_ don’t do dances,” he mutters after a pause.

She flashes a grin at him. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” She thinks he mutters that she’s as bossy as they say, whoever _they_ are.

She nods at him, serious. “So, it’s a deal then. I’m guessing we can’t tell anybody? Like, we have to _really_ sell it, Zuko.”

He hums, crossing his arms and leaning back. “Okay, then you have to go to my family’s beach house for the break.”  He reaches an arm over and taps on the paper. “Add that in. It wouldn’t make any sense to not invite my girlfriend but have my ex there.”

Katara groans. “I completely forgot about the beach house. It’s all Sokka ever talks about before you guys go.” She, however, has never been invited. That bit goes unsaid. “Can’t you be flirty and romantic from a text?”

He drums his fingers against the countertop, pouting. “No. It’s my one rule we have to follow.” He turns his head slightly away from her. “I _did_ have a girlfriend, you know. I can be romantic.”

Katara looks up at him and her brows almost shoot off her forehead. He’s blushing, and the sunlight is kind of doing it for her behind him.

Zuko’s still pretty cute. Not that she’s really feeling anything like _that_ anymore. No, those old feelings are sealed away in the letter she now knows he keeps in his binder.

She doesn’t find it charming or endearing, not one bit.

“We just need Sokka to believe it, so we have to post it on like Instagram, or whatever.” Katara brushes a hand across her face to hide her blush. “But don’t be weird about it.”

“Trust me, Katara,” he says, looking into her eyes. “I don’t plan on falling in love with you.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

They haven’t agreed on when they were going to start telling people, but Katara posted a _tasteful_ selfie of herself in Zuko’s front seat to Instagram before he left. It’s a little tease of what’s to come without outright saying it out loud.

Katara doesn’t account for Sokka’s impressively powers of deduction.

She’s setting out bowls for dinner when Sokka gets home from Robotics Club. He gives her a _look_ , but Katara has no idea what this particular _look_ means. He’s already taken his bag off and dumps himself into his usual chair without ceremony.

“Are you going to wash your hands, you barbarian?” she quips without turning around. Honestly, how does he expect Suki to want to marry him one day when he can’t even wash up for a family meal?

He doesn’t answer, which is decidedly very _UnSokka_ of him. He just gives her a _look_ and calls for their father.

All seated for the meal, they have barely put their spoons into the beef stew because Sokka jerks up, phone in hand, and shrieks, “I have an announcement!”

Katara and Hakoda look at each other, confused. “You don’t have to announce yourself,” Hakoda say gently, smiling. “What’s up, kiddo?”

Sokka sucks in a deep breath and points a finger at Katara. “My little sister has a secret boyfriend.” He then dramatically slams his phone on the table. “It’s Zuko!” At this he gags and pretends to die slowly in his chair. “Stupid jerk didn’t even tell me!”

On his phone was the picture she _just_ posted a few hours ago of her smiling happily in Zuko’s car. Zuko isn’t in the picture himself, but Sokka still knew from being in the car so much.

Hakoda blinks and glances at Katara. He coughs. “Well, she’s old enough to date, you know. Zuko’s a nice young man. Serious, to an alarming degree sometimes.” He shrugs and purses his lips. “He might be good for your Katara. She deserves to be happy.” He smiles. “You were secretly dating Suki for a year, if I remember correctly.”

Sokka just gags again. “Suki doesn’t have oogies like Zuko does!”

“Oogies?” Hakoda laughs. “That boy is your best friend. I’ve seen you steal sips from his drink before.”

Sokka opens his mouth to speak, but Katara slams her hands on the table. “Enough! What is wrong with you two? I’m literally sitting right here!” She trains her glare on Sokka. “I like Zuko, he’s your friend. He’s a good guy. Stop being a jerk, you bonehead!”

Sokka grumbles a little. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugs. “It’s still new.” It’s not a lie, but it’s also not the truth.

“ _When_ did this even happen?” Sokka shovels a spoonful of stew in his mouth. “I literally didn’t see this coming,” he says around the mouthful of food.

Katara grimaces. “You’re so disgusting, Sokka! How did you even know about it?”

Sokka lets out a long, suffering sigh. “I heard that creepily positive cheerleader talking about it yesterday at school. I think she’s still dating Jet? Since she’s friends with Zuko’s scary sister, he told her he saw you two on our porch _smooching_ and trading _oogies_. And boy, that girl was a blabbermouth. It made it’s way over to me from her, not from Zuko,” Sokka looks very put out by this “and I thought it sounded fake and _highly_ unlikely until I saw that,” he points to the phone “on Instagram.”

“I’m not going to apologize,” she states, final. “I can date whomever I please.”

Sokka laughs, “I didn’t expect you to. Just warn a guy first, damn.”

Hakoda clears his throat. “Language,” he chides, giving Sokka the eye. “Is that all?” The siblings nod. “Okay, good. Thank you, Katara, for cooking dinner.” She smiles at him and touches her necklace. “Let’s eat.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Katara’s copy of the contract feels heavy in her backpack, and she feels the weight of it with every step she takes. It’s a dumb, petty idea that she’s surprised Zuko went along with.

He must be _extremely_ salty about Mai and her new boyfriend.

Her and Sokka never lie to each other, but he believed it so easily she barely had to do much. This is the first secret she’s ever _really_ kept from him.

The only secret, except her massive crush on Zuko last summer.

Katara texts Zuko to let him know that Sokka found out about the relationship. She doesn’t wait around for a text back from him. She reads for a little to get ahead in her AP Lang class. She even does a few extra credit formulas for her chemistry class. She figures the more bored she makes herself, the less eager she’ll seem.

Katara waits a total of two and a half minutes after her phone _finally_ vibrates to look at it and another forty-five seconds to respond to it.

**Zuko**

Lol seriously?

            Sokka’s an idiot

Katara laughs. She can picture Zuko’s serious, deadpan expression as he typed ‘lol.’

**Me**

Apparently, we’re obvious in our mutual crushes

Whatever that’s supposed to mean

She knows her crush on Zuko wasn’t obvious when she had it, and Suki only noticed her actions around the older teen after Katara already told her how she felt about him.

She thinks they can be friends, although most new friends don’t begin said friendships with schemes to make their exes jealous.

**Zuko**

Doubt it.

            Mai tweeted about a concert downtown

            Should we go?

A concert would be a good way to flaunt his new “girlfriend,” especially on social media. She just didn’t think it was really _her_ scene. Katara bites her bottom lip. Her phone vibrates again.

**Zuko**

            We don’t have to go

            Just throwing ideas around

Katara giggles. She just took a few minutes to respond to him, and he immediately went on the defense. She wonders what kind of relationship he and Mai had, if it was rewarding for either of them.

The few times she’s met Mai, mostly on the stupid _group hangs_ Sokka insists on every other weekend, she didn’t seem happy to be there. She actually managed to simultaneously look disinterested and hostile. Katara never really spoke to her, if she was being honest with herself.

**Me**

I’ll go, sounds like fun

Don’t have an aneurysm, Sizzlin’ Hotman

**Zuko**

            …

            Is this Sokka?

**Me**

??

**Zuko**

Sorry. Your brother is weird

Katara sits back on the corner of her bed, biting down on a smile.

**Me**

Don’t cheat on me with Sokka lmao

**Zuko**

WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?!

            I’ll pick you at up 7 weirdo

“So, I’m the weirdo, huh,” she says to herself, tapping her index finger against her chin. She smirks and changes his name in her phone to _Sizzlin’ Hotman._

She looks at her closet and grimaces. She has _no_ idea what she is going to wear.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Zuko is standing in the kitchen talking with her father when she comes down in her best concert attire.

“You look nice,” he rasps, sliding a taro milk bubble tea her way. “I like your hair like this.” He gently tugs on the ends of her hair. She had styled it in a half up half down style, with the top being in a giant bun and the rest left down and wavy. The little hair pull was kind of brilliant; it looked well-practiced and natural, a subconscious behavior.

“How did you know this is my favorite flavor?” she asks, and Zuko rubs the back of his neck, sheepish.

“Sokka complains about always having to bring you home bubble tea, and I’m usually his ride, so,” he coughs at the end awkwardly and looks away from her.

She smiles at him. “Thanks, Zuko. Really.” He blushes and looks away from her. “I’m guessing your emo hipster vibe works for this kind of thing, huh?”

Zuko immediately scowls. Katara beams at him. “I’m not a hipster,” he grumbles, and Katara holds in a laugh because he didn’t say anything about the emo part.

“Whatever you say, Hotman,” she laughs, moving to kiss her dad on the cheek. “We’ll be home before midnight,” she tells him.

Hakoda folds his arms and leans against the sink. “Uh huh, Zuko and I actually had a good talk about that, right?”

Zuko swallows and nods. “Yes, sir.”

“Keep your hands to yourself, she’s a lady.”

Katara’s face heats. “Dad! For the love of—” she cuts herself off and inhales sharply. “You need to tell your pervy, grabby son whatever you just told Zuko whenever he goes out to see Suki.”

Hakoda laughs and strokes his beard. “Huh. I guess you’re right. Have fun, kids.” He claps Zuko on the shoulder and gives him a gentle shake. “Don’t stay out too late.”

Katara rolls her eyes and pulls Zuko behind her and out the door. “Goodbye, Dad!” She peeks up at Zuko from underneath her lashes, and his flushed face indicates their proximity. She releases her hold on his wrist and walks to her car as normal as possible.

He smells nice. She’s never noticed before.

Not that _that’s_ important or anything.

Right.

 

 

 

                                                   

* * *

 

 

 

 

Katara thinks about the letter she wrote to Zuko. She was fifteen and still _extremely_ jealous of Sokka. He’d gotten a scholarship to the private school in the Caldera district two years before, and they could provide the education that their public school could not.

Katara was proud of Sokka but so, _so_ jealous.

All his classmates were well traveled rich kids who went to summer houses and didn’t have to look at the price of anything when they went out.

The school itself was the best in the area, and almost everyone who went there got into their dream universities.

Sokka met Zuko on his first day of school after the two had almost gotten into a fight. She has no idea what the fight was over, but they became fast friends after that, thick as thieves.

At least, that’s the way that Sokka tells the story.

Katara, on the other hand, didn’t care much for his angry rich friend. He almost always dismissed her as a person, and she didn’t let him off the hook so easily.

After their sophomore year, Zuko moved into his uncle’s house for good, and he became a different person after that. Less bitter, his anger still there but less angry? Iroh is a good influence on his nephew, and it was his love for him that helped her see the beauty in Zuko.

That, and Sokka constantly forcing them together on his stupid group hangs contributed to her feelings as well. She’ll never forget their trips to the beach.

Sitting here in Zuko’s car, heading to a concert that she would never consider going to in this lifetime is surreal.

“It’s weird, right?” Katara chirps, and Zuko startles a little. “How is this our actual life?”

Zuko shrugs. “It was your idea.” At her glare, he sneers. “We signed a contract on notebook paper. We can quit whenever you want.” His eyes are focused on the road.

Katara feels like he’s challenging her, so she lifts her chin in false confidence. “Don’t act all high and mighty when you—you’re _profiting_ off this arrangement.”

He only grunts, not rising to her taunt. The Zuko from a year ago, hell the Zuko from last summer would’ve gave in and had some sort of dramatic Zuko freak out.

Katara can only assume that him moving in with his uncle before his junior year is doing wonders for his mood.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The Wolfbats shows are playing a _literal_ underground show in their city. They’re a band known for being hard to find, and only the true fans will find their way to their way to their concerts.

Zuko, apparently, has sources concerning these things.

Katara would have never found herself at one of these shows in a million years. It’s one of those things that she’d hear about the next day in the hallways, _another_ experience to miss out on. Even though they’re essentially on a mission to make his ex-girlfriend jealous and make her ex-crush leave her alone, it seemed like a fun night out.

“Do you do this often?” Katara asks, looking at Zuko’s profile. She is genuinely curious; Sokka doesn’t go to these shows with him, and she wasn’t aware that he was a fan of live music.

He gives her a one shoulder shrug. “Mai is really into it. My sister used to drag me out to them with Mai and Ty Lee, and it kinda became a thing.” His eyes are trained on the road as he speaks. “Sometimes I go to them by myself. It’s nice to be an unknown face in the crowd sometimes.”

Katara looks at him, almost as if she’s really seeing him. He continues, “Sorry, if that’s like, oversharing, or whatever.” The tips of his ears are pink.

“It’s okay to not want to be _you_ for a while,” Katara starts, “I wish that _I_ could do that for a day, but Dad and Sokka need me, you know? She sighs, leaning her head against the window. “We don’t need to post a bunch about the concert, right? Just a picture showing that we’re _there_?”

The car rolls to a stop at the red light. Zuko turns to look at her. “One picture for each Instagram?”

Katara shakes her head. “I want to make a Snapchat video. I _never_ go to these.” No one would believe her unless she posted her own shaky camera work.

A small smile flits its way across Zuko’s face and disappears just as quickly. “Okay,” he says, simply.

The light turns green.


	3. intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zuko gets The Talk from the least wanted source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo
> 
> Sorry about the long wait for a baby chappie, but I have most of the last chapter done. It's only a matter of time before I actually finish a fic. LIke whaaaat??

Zuko fidgets in his seat slightly, but his gaze is unwavering, His palms are sweaty, but he can’t bring himself to wipe them on his jeans. His phone vibrates, he doesn’t check it.

On the screen in front of him, he and Sokka are neck in neck racing down Rainbow Road.

Sokka releases a high-pitched screech and completely breaks Zuko’s concentration, allowing him to knock the other teen’s character off the edge of the ring.

“What the hell! You cheated!” Zuko throws the controller to the ground, successfully ending Sokka’s embarrassing victory dance. The cheater in question dives for the He makes to open his mouth, but Zuko cut him off. “No, I’m not going to keep coming over here to game if you’re just going to scream at me to make me lose!”

“A warrior knows how to win his battles, Prince of the Sore Losers.”

He chooses to ignore the last bit, saving it for a rainy day. “Battle? You picked the one map that destroys friendships and you _cheated!_ ”

“Says the loser.”

It’s very hard to pout and try to look menacing in a bean bag chair. Zuko is sure his displeasure is known, even though he’s never been able to make Sokka wary of him, even before they were friends.

Sokka eases back into his beanbag, lazily reaching into the bag of cheese puffs with an easy grin. “Oh, I got you something, by the way.” He reaches behind him and tosses a nondescript bag at Zuko; its contents spill out between them.

The small black box is already open, and the foil packets scatter across the floor.

There’s a pregnant pause.

Zuko’s good eye starts to twitch. “I don’t need those,” he grits out.

“What are you talking about? I gave Katara her own box of condoms the week after that underground concert you took her too. Which, by the way, was the most painful experience of my existence.”

_So she’s been sitting on this for weeks?!_ Zuko pinches the bridges of his nose and exhales slowly. “I told you that we were taking it _slow_ —”

“AH! No!” Sokka shrieks, raising an eyebrow. “That’s exactly how _accidents_ happen! No _accident_ will befall my baby sister, especially at the hands of my best friend!” He lets out a huff, wiping a hand down his face. “Look, I just want to make sure she’s being safe. She can make her own choices, but she’s my sister.”

Behind all of the bravado and bad jokes, Sokka was just worried about Katara. He doesn’t know that they’re fake dating, nobody does and he’d like to keep it that way.

Azula is terrifying, he’d never have to do any of this for her, lest she murder him in his sleep. It’s nice, in a weird way.

“Thanks, I guess,” he mumbles with burning cheeks, not looking his friend in the eye.

Sokka waves him off, already setting up a new game. “As long as you tell me _nothing_ about it. Me and Katara are close, but there are some things a man doesn’t need to know.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“So, your brother gave me a giant box of condoms,” Zuko says in lieu of greeting, grabbing the box from her hands and heading back to his waiting car.

“Oh,” she answers, voice even and eyebrow quirked.

Naturally, this makes Zuko suspicious.

“You knew he was going to do this, didn’t you?” he accuses, closing the car door slightly harder than necessary.

Katara rolls her eyes as she buckles in. Her usual boba tea is in the cup holder, and she smiles in thanks as she takes her first sip. “He gave me a bunch on condoms a few weeks ago and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I figured if I could handle Sokka being obnoxious then so could you.”

Fair enough.

Still, his cheeks are a flaming red that he hopes she doesn’t notice. He steals a glance at her out the corner of his eye, and she looks _nice_.

Casual, but he thinks she put extra effort into her hair today.

Zuko isn’t blind, he is a functioning teenage boy, and he thinks it’s okay that he finds his fake girlfriend pretty. Friends are allowed to call each other pretty. It’s not weird or anything.

Sometimes, though, when he’s driving her home from school and she’s smiling the sunlight hits her _just right_ that he honestly cannot be faulted for forgetting how to breathe.

He doesn’t realize that he’s openly staring at her until she opens her mouth.

“Is there something on my face?” Katara asks, pulling down the mirror and checking her face at all angles. “Gran Gran stopped at that new gourmet donut shop on your side of town and I had to eat mine fast before Sokka saw it and started complaining.” She laughs a little to herself. “I practically swallowed it whole.”

The scarred teen gulps and makes to put the vehicle in reverse. His eyes catch on the Tupperware from the lunch she made him that’s still in the backseat.

He told her that he wasn’t planning on falling in love with her, but it’s the little things she does to show that she cares that make him heart beat a little faster.

Spending this much time with Katara is confusing to say the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is someone catching feelings o.o

**Author's Note:**

> I am OBSESSED with TATBILB, like it's nuts. I'll be taking bits from both the movies and the books. I'm looking at this being about 10K works tops. Just a little itch that needs to be scratched. It's already halfway written, and I actually made an outline to help me write faster. 
> 
> Kudos/comments are always appreciated. :)


End file.
